


the greatest mysteries come in threes

by kira_katrine



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Gen, Time Travel, and also future self, character meets past self, partly during canon, partly pre-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kira_katrine/pseuds/kira_katrine
Summary: The little girl who had appeared on the Shenzhou looked very familiar to Michael.Too familiar.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19
Collections: Past Imperfect Future Unknown 2019





	the greatest mysteries come in threes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laurus_nobilis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurus_nobilis/gifts).



Michael was on her way to resume her shift after lunch when she got the call from Saru.

“Saru to Lieutenant Burnham.”

“Burnham here,” Michael said, wondering what this could be about.

“There is a… situation in the deck three laboratory,” Saru said. “Your presence is required.”

“I’ll be right there,” Michael said. “What kind of situation is this, exactly?”

“It is difficult to explain,” said Saru. “It seems we have a visitor on board this ship.”

“You mean there’s an intruder?” said Michael. “Have you informed security?”

“I have, but their direct involvement may not be necessary at this stage,” said Saru. “The visitor, assuming she is as she seems, does not seem to pose a physical threat. It is more of a… complication that must be dealt with.”

“I’m on my way,” said Michael, turning and starting in the direction of the turbolift.

When she arrived at the laboratory, it didn’t take long for Michael to see the visitor Saru had been referring to.

Standing in front of a rather uncomfortable-looking Saru was a young girl with dark curly hair, who came up to about the Kelpien’s waist. As the doors to the lab shut behind Michael, the girl turned to face her, and Michael immediately knew why Saru had called her, in particular, to deal with this situation. Though how it had arisen, she could not say.

The girl looked very familiar. Too familiar.

“Do you work in the science lab too?” the girl said, noticing Michael. “My mom has a science lab! I was just telling him about it,” she said, pointing to Saru. “I was just in there and then suddenly _poof!_ ” She made a gesture with her hands as if indicating an explosion.

“Poof,” Michael repeated, still processing what she was seeing. “What did you touch in there? Didn’t your mom always tell you not to touch anything in her lab?” _How could she--_ I _\--have been home and ended up here? And wouldn’t I remember something like this? And if that’s really true, what could Mom have been doing that would--_

The girl narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?” she said.

“I don’t,” Michael backtracked, unsure of how much she should be letting her past self find out. “It just seems like a very sensible precaution for the mother of a small girl like yourself to take regarding a science lab. In any case, we need to find out how you got here so we can send you back home to your parents.” Assuming she was really who she appeared to be, of course.

“I don’t know,” the girl said. “There was a weird squiggly thing? Like a spiraly thing. And also a keyboard with a bunch of buttons and some kind of helmet…”

This was not as helpful as Michael had hoped. “Saru, I think we should make sure this is really what it looks like,” she said. “Maybe stop by sickbay, they might be able to do some basic checks. Have you informed Captain Georgiou?”

“She is aware of the situation, yes,” said Saru. “She also suggested sickbay, and asked that she be kept informed of what is happening.”

“I suppose we should go over there, then,” said Michael. She turned to her younger self. “Follow me.”

A while later, Michael stood in Captain Georgiou’s ready room, accompanied by Doctor Nambue and the young girl. The captain sat behind her desk, listening to their explanation of what had happened, at least as far as they knew it. The younger Michael was looking around the room, staring at the various objects displayed there in apparent fascination, fidgeting slightly as if wishing she could go over and touch them.

“She’s definitely human,” Doctor Nambue said. “I examined her in sickbay, and her DNA profile matches that of Lieutenant Burnham. She does, however, appear to have recently been exposed to large quantities of tachyon radiation.”

“So, time travel,” Captain Georgiou said. “Lieutenant Burnham, it appears you’ve just met your past self.”

“So I gathered,” said Michael. If she was being honest, she still couldn’t quite believe what had happened--even though she knew, logically, that it _was_ happening. The doctor’s tests had confirmed it. 

“There are many records of incidents involving time travel from various Starfleet ships,” Georgiou went on. “I have not, however, ever heard of someone’s past self spontaneously appearing in the present, through no apparent effort of their own.”

“She mentioned being in her--in our mother’s laboratory at the time,” said Michael. “While I am unaware of anything that would have been there that could have caused this, our mother was an astrophysicist, after all. Do you think that’s possible, Captain?”

“Possible, certainly,” said Georgiou. “It does not, however, connect to any technology that I am aware of. Though, of course, time travel is not my particular area of expertise. I’ll put some science officers on figuring out how to send her home--I would like you to help as well, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The little girl had walked over to the window and was looking out at the stars, her eyes wide with wonder.

“It is beautiful out there, isn’t it?” said Georgiou, smiling at the girl.

“Yeah!” said the younger Michael. “Sometimes when me and my mom and dad go to a new planet, Dad shows me new constellations. Vera IV, where we are now, they have one called Rana, which is supposed to be like a big lizard that lives in the center of the planet. I don’t think it does really, but it would be cool. They do have really big lizards there, but not _that_ big. You can probably see _all_ the constellations from all the planets from up here.”

“Not quite all of them,” said Georgiou. “But there is a lot to see from here, it’s true.”

“Do you guys just live in space?” the younger Michael said. “Like all the time?”

“For the most part, yes,” said Georgiou. “Sometimes we visit planets, but usually we don’t stay for long.”

“I’ve been to a whole bunch of planets,” the girl said. “We go there for my dad’s work mostly. He studies alien civilizations.” Michael remembered saying that phrase to people over and over as a kid, even if she’d had trouble pronouncing “civilizations” at first. “Do you guys ever do that?”

“We do,” said Georgiou, looking over at the older Michael and-- _did she just wink at me_? “We study all sorts of things in Starfleet.”

“Do you know why that guy I met when I got here had worms coming out of his head? They were only there for a second and then they crawled back in or something. I asked him but he wouldn’t tell me, he just looked at me weird.”

“That is not an appropriate topic of conversation,” Michael interjected, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Didn’t your father tell you not to ask people things like that?”

“How would he have told me that? I never met anybody with worms coming out of his head before!” said the younger Michael. “Well, I did meet some people with worms coming out of their _mouth_ , but Dad told me it was like how they brush their teeth and not to say ew because that’s rude. He didn’t know what they taste like though. Toothpaste probably tastes better anyway.”

_I do remember that._ Seeing her younger self was making Michael remember a lot of things. She remembered that conversation with her father--how she’d wanted to know everything he could tell her about these people and their worms. She remembered the years of missing him and Mom--years that had never ended completely.

She didn’t like it. She had worked so hard on Vulcan to avoid exactly that.

“We ought to get started on figuring out a solution to this as soon as possible,” Michael said.

Georgiou turned back to the older Michael. “Quite right. I will inform engineering.” Georgiou turned to the intercom on her wall. “Captain Georgiou to Commander Russell,” she said. “There is an ongoing situation with which your assistance is required. I will be sending Lieutenant Burnham down to engineering shortly; she will brief you on what is happening.” She turned back to Michael. “I want you to fill him in and then help him and the others figure out how to resolve this.”

“Understood, Captain.”

They didn’t manage to send Michael’s younger self back that day, though they did think they’d worked out how she’d ended up on the Shenzhou in the first place and were experimenting with possibilities. That, of course, left the question of where the child should sleep, given that Starfleet vessels were not designed or staffed with children in mind. Eventually, in the absence of better options, it was decided that the younger Michael would stay in the older Michael’s quarters for the night. Child-sized cots weren’t a typical provision on Starfleet ships, but she’d managed to replicate the pieces of one, and eventually gotten it assembled.

“Didn’t you ever find out what all that stuff was?” the younger Michael asked, sitting on the cot after they’d finished.

“What stuff?”

“The stuff in Mom’s lab.”

“No,” said Michael, trying to convey that she did not want to discuss this topic.

“Oh,” said the younger Michael, sounding disappointed. “She keeps saying she’ll tell me when I’m older. And you’re pretty old, so I thought maybe she woulda told you by now.”

“It’s time for you to go to bed,” Michael said, changing the subject. “I’ve replicated some pajamas for you, and a toothbrush. Go brush your teeth. The bathroom’s over there.”

“I don’t wanna go to bed.”

“It is not a question of whether or not you want to,” said Michael. 

“You’re not my mom.”

“I am literally you from the future. If anyone should know whether or not you should go to bed, it’s me.”

The younger Michael seemed to consider that for a moment. The moment passed. “But I don’t want to sleep!” she said. “I’m in space!”

“So am I,” said Michael. “That is not a reason.”

“But you live here. You’ve probably seen all kinds of stuff by now.”

“It’s not like you’ve never been in space before,” Michael said. She’d been on a lot of ships with her parents as they traveled between Dad’s anthropological expeditions--though not Starfleet vessels, and nothing like the Shenzhou.

“I know. But those transport ships are so boring! This ship has all sorts of cool stuff like science labs and holographic star maps and all that stuff in the captain’s office. The transport ships don’t have any of that.”

“A Starfleet vessel is not a place for children,” Michael said. “Surely you have had enough of science labs for the time being.”

“Also I never get to see anything. It’s just zoop!--on to the next planet. The planets are cool sometimes but I know there’s so much other stuff that we’re missing--”

“Perhaps that is as it should be,” said Michael. “Your parents know what is best for you. You should learn to appreciate what they teach you.”

The younger Michael looked a bit taken aback. She seemed to recover quickly, though. “How do I get to go to space like you?”

“You will have to work very hard,” Michael said. “You must concentrate on your studies.”

“Okay.”

“And you will have to do as you are told by your teachers and your superior officers. Such as going to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“That’s what Mom and Dad always say,” said the younger Michael. “But they never do it. If I wake up in the middle of the night Mom’s always in her lab.”

“Your parents may have important work that must be done at that time,” Michael said. “You do not. There is no logical reason for you to remain awake.”

“But I can’t go to sleep! I’m thinking about too many things!”

“Then attempt to bring those thoughts to a conclusion while you brush your teeth,” said Michael. Her younger self just looked confused at that. “I am not going to take you anywhere else on the ship until tomorrow morning anyway, nor is anyone else. There is little else to do in these quarters. You may as well get ready for bed.”

Her younger self finally grabbed the toothbrush and pajamas and went into the bathroom. The older Michael sat down on her bed, finding she was thinking about quite a lot of things herself.

Had she really forgotten why she had wanted to go into space to begin with? For years, she had been so caught up in trying to prove that she was just as good as any Vulcan, that she deserved her place at the Vulcan Science Academy as much as any of her classmates, that her ultimate placement in Starfleet had felt like a disappointment, like second-best. But it hadn’t always been about that. Mom had taught her about the stars, and Dad had taught her about the people who lived among them. For so long, she’d wanted to see it all.

“I can’t sleep.”

Michael looked over towards the cot. It was dark in the room, but she could see that her younger self was sitting up, the blanket wrapped around her. Earlier, the younger Michael had said she was too excited to sleep, that she was thinking about too many things. Looking at her now, though… the second part of that could still be true, but she did not look excited anymore.

“I want my mom and dad,” the girl said. “Dad would help me not be scared at night.”

“You should learn to go to sleep on your own,” Michael said. She’d have to do it sooner or later. Judging by what Michael remembered of how she’d looked over the years of her childhood, she had at least a couple of years yet, but not long enough. Never long enough.

“I already _know_ how _,_ ” she said. “I’m not a _baby._ It’s not scary at home anymore, because Mom and Dad are there. But they’re not here.”

“You are in no danger here,” Michael said. “You are on a starship run by a highly trained Starfleet crew. They will keep you safe.”

“That’s not what I mean.” What Michael had said didn’t seem to have helped at all. “What if they can’t send me home? What if I never see Mommy and Daddy again?”

“I know I did not grow up on the USS Shenzhou,” Michael said. “Therefore, logically, I know you will be returned home before too much time has passed.”

“How much time is that, though?” the younger Michael said, her voice starting to catch. “And how do you even know? People don’t know everything about time travel. I read a book about it with Mommy. There was a bunch of stuff even the guy who wrote it didn’t know.”

Michael realized her younger self had started to cry. She was entirely unsure of how to respond.

“Try not to concern yourself with such things,” she finally said. “It is illogical to worry over something you cannot--”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Tears were coming down the little girl’s face now. “Talking about stuff being illogical. You sound like a Vulcan or something. I don’t want that. I want my mom and dad!”

_She still has a lot to learn,_ Michael told herself. _You cannot expect her to respond as you would. She is only human--and very young at that. Even Vulcan children are still learning emotional control at her age._

But in a few years, the younger Michael would be going to Vulcan. She would be joining a Vulcan household. And she would still be wanting her mom and dad.

_But that isn’t now. There is a human child crying in front of you now._

Michael crossed the room and sat down awkwardly on the cot--clearly not designed with an adult in mind; her legs were much too long for its height. Her younger self looked up at her, her tear-filled eyes clearly asking for something. The older Michael nodded.

The younger Michael threw her arms around her future self, flopping into her lap. Michael froze, looking down at the little girl. After several moments, she patted the younger Michael on the back, trying to think of what else she should do.

Michael thought back to what her parents--or rather, her three human parents--had done when she’d been afraid, when she’d clearly needed someone, back before she’d known better.

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” The younger girl looked up. She nodded. “Get under the covers and I’ll tell you.” As her younger self did so, Michael thought back to the stories Dad had told her, to one her younger self had mentioned just earlier that day, as she had spoken to Captain Georgiou with excitement shining in her eyes.

“Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there lived a huge winged creature called Rana. Rana had all of the universe to fly through, but in all of that, there was one thing she was missing. She had no home.”

Late the next day, the device they would use to send the younger Michael home was finally ready. The engineers and science officers who had constructed it stood around it, ready to intervene if anything seemed to be going wrong. Captain Georgiou was also present, as was the older Michael herself, of course.

There was a humming noise as the device powered up. The younger Michael stood in front of it, looking nervous.

“It has been most interesting to meet you,” Michael said. _You couldn’t tell her anything important,_ she told herself. _There’s nothing you can do that would change any of it._

The humming grew louder. The device started to vibrate, and then glow slightly red.

“I’m not sure it’s supposed to be doing--” Commander Russell started to say, but before anyone could do anything, some kind of energy beam shot out of the device and hit the older Michael right in the stomach, knocking her off her feet.

“Ah!” Michael grunted, as the room around her, the other officers and Captain Georgiou’s shout of “Michael!” started to fade away.

She found herself on her hands and knees in the middle of an unfamiliar room. It wasn’t any place she’d seen before on the Shenzhou. There was some kind of large glass case, and a lot of canisters shelved all around the room.

“Commander Burnham?”

Michael looked up. The man who had spoken didn’t look at all familiar; he was very pale and blond, and wore a puzzled expression on his face. He wore a Starfleet uniform--science division, the same as Michael’s own.

“Lieutenant Burnham,” she corrected him, starting to have some idea of what might have happened--though it still didn’t explain exactly where she was.

“I see,” the man said. “Where exactly did you come from?”

“The USS Shenzhou,” Michael said. _But that’s not the only piece of it._ “2250.”

“I am sure you understand there will be limits to how much any of us can tell you,” Commander Burnham said. “I don’t actually remember what will happen next from your perspective, and I didn’t remember visiting the Shenzhou as a little girl until after it happened from mine. That said, the nature of much of what has happened in between, and of the Discovery itself, is such that we would rather not take any chances.”

“Of course, Commander,” Michael said. The other woman styled her hair differently, and also seemed to hold herself a bit less stiffly than Michael did, but other than that, looking at her was like looking into a mirror. It was more than a little unsettling, perhaps even more so than meeting her childhood self had been. 

Commander Burnham raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused. “We’re literally the same person, you know,” she said. “You don’t have to address me by rank.”

“I apologize,” Michael said.

“You don’t have to do that either.”

There were two beds in the room. It was not typical for Starfleet officers above the rank of ensign to share quarters, with the exception of those cohabitating with a spouse or romantic partner--certainly not those who had attained the rank of commander. And most humans living with a romantic partner would share a bed. Michael noticed a photo next to the other bed--was that her? It was her, and a young woman with red curly hair, big smiles on both of their faces. It didn’t look right. “Who is that?”

Burnham followed Michael’s gaze to the photo. “That?” She looked slightly hesitant, then said, “That’s Ensign Sylvia Tilly. We’re friends.”

“Friends.” Michael glanced over at the second bed once again. “And she lives in these quarters as well.”

“Yes.”

Burnham did not seem interested in explaining any further. Surely, though, she knew how unusual this situation was.

A thought occurred to Michael. “This doesn’t mean I stay trapped here until I catch up, does it?” she said. “And that there were no spare quarters for me, so I ended up sharing a room with the ensign?”

“No,” said Burnham. “At least, that is not what happened in my version of events.”

“So at a later date, you were transferred to this vessel.”

“Yes,” Burnham said, though there was an odd hesitance to it, as though there was more to it than a simple personnel transfer.

“I see,” said Michael. She hadn’t thought she would feel anything particular about leaving the Shenzhou, as she had always assumed she would one day, as she must if she was to have her own command, which she ultimately aspired to. And yet, she had an odd feeling that she would miss the ship, would miss its captain, would perhaps even miss the others in the crew who, even after a year, she felt she was only just beginning to know. _A year ago, I didn’t think I wanted to get to know them at all._

“You’ll come to love this crew,” Burnham said. Michael raised an eyebrow. “I saw that. I mean it. The Shenzhou will always be special to you too, of course.”

“So you are truly dedicated to Starfleet now,” said Michael.

This time, it was Burnham’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

_Of course I am,_ Michael thought. In a sense, it was true. When she had been assigned to the Shenzhou, she had promised to serve the Federation and live by its principles, and she had meant it. In the year since, she had come to appreciate it more and more. But she still thought about what would have happened if things had been different, if the Vulcan Expeditionary Group had accepted her as she had hoped. She still wasn’t sure she would ever completely feel like she belonged in Starfleet--but she had felt the same way among Vulcans, had she not?

“You will find people with whom you feel like you belong,” said Burnham, as if she knew what Michael was thinking--which Michael supposed she did, in a way. “Captain Philippa Georgiou is going to be one of the most important people in your life. Do not take her for granted. Learn all you can from her.”

“I intend to,” said Michael. What would be the point of serving under one of the most distinguished captains in Starfleet if she did not learn all she could from her about the galaxy and about commanding a starship?

“I don’t just mean practical skills, either,” Burnham said. “She has a lot to teach you about… well, about life. About being human.”

_Being human._ There it was again.

“Why does everyone keep trying to turn me into someone I am not?” Michael said. “Perhaps I do not wish to learn any more on that subject. Perhaps I have had more than enough of that already.”

“Well, at the end of the day, that is who you are,” said Burnham. “Or at least--it is an important part of who you are. Not the only important part, of course. If I believed that, perhaps I wouldn’t be--” She cut herself off, glancing toward the corner of the room. Michael noticed a small bag there, partly filled with supplies, with clothes lying folded around it.

“Are you going somewhere?” Michael asked.

“What?” 

“You seem to be packing a bag--or perhaps unpacking one.”

“Oh. That.” She seemed unsure of what to say, then said “I’m going home for a little while. To Vulcan. To see our mother and father.”

“I see,” said Michael. In a way, it reassured Michael to hear that. It was very strange to see how much her future self seemed to have changed, from her hair to this new roommate situation--and it had been just as strange to see from the outside how different her past self had been. But despite it all, she still considered Vulcan home.

“Spock might be in trouble.”

“Spock?” Michael had not spoken to her brother in a long time. “Have you been in contact with him, then?”

“No,” said Burnham. “But I can’t just abandon him--especially not when this might all be my fault.”

_Our fault._ And while Michael didn’t know the details of this situation, that could very well be true. Was her future self looking at her, with her Vulcan-as-possible appearance and mannerisms, and seeing only the person who had driven her brother away? Just as she herself had looked at her own past self, at her curiosity and thirst for knowledge, and seen only the events that had led to the death of their parents.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Burnham said suddenly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place--you’re not meant to know anything about this yet--”

“You said I would probably not remember any of this once I return to my proper place in the timeline,” said Michael. “And if I need not apologize to you, you need not apologize to me for this. After all, I assume you are referring to a thing I have already done.”

Burnham nodded. “You do know.” She seemed to relax a bit. “I’ve never spoken about what really happened between us and Spock with anyone. Not any of my friends here. Not Captain Georgiou. Not even Mother.”

Michael had tried for so long not to think about what had happened. She had told herself that it was not logical to dwell on what had happened, that the important thing was to learn from what she had done, not repeat it, and try to mend what she had broken. She was not sure it _could_ be mended, and either way, if her future self had not found a way seven years down the line, what was Michael supposed to do?

“I’m not asking you to solve my problems,” Burnham said. “I know I’m the only one who can do that. But it is… nice to meet someone who knows what’s happening, you know? Even if you don’t actually _know_ what’s happening.”

“Yes,” said Michael. “I suppose it is.”

They had an easier time putting together the second time travel device than the Shenzhou crew had with the first. This was partly due to the fact that Michael had already been through the process once before. They believed they had fixed the problems they had encountered with the first version, and Michael had taken copious notes regarding the fix, which she would take back to the Shenzhou and give to the others, so as to allow her past self to be sent back to her own time.

This time, Michael stood herself in front of the device, waiting for it to be switched on and send her back to the Shenzhou. Commander Burnham stood next to her. As Michael waited, Burnham gave her a small encouraging smile.

Michael turned to her. “Before I go, there is one more thing.” Her older self nodded. “I have come to realize that I was a bit overly cold to our past self, back when she came to the Shenzhou.”

“Maybe a bit,” Burnham said.

“But as I reflected on who I was when I was her, I came to realize what she needed from me. And you have been kind to me as well.”

“Thank you,” said Burnham, though she looked a bit unsure of what Michael was getting at.

“Clearly you are capable of showing kindness to yourself,” Michael said. “So I would like to ask that you not forget to do so once I am gone.”

She probably wasn’t going to remember this meeting with her future self when she returned to the Shenzhou--but now that she’d caught up in the timeline, she did remember another meeting, remembered seeing the ship through a child’s eyes. She remembered meeting Captain Georgiou, and wanting to spend more time around her, knowing on some level there was so much to learn from her. She remembered seeing herself as she was now--feeling confusion, anxiety about who she would become, but also admiration and hope that she really would explore the galaxy just like the parents she had loved so much.

Michael had been that little girl, and one day she would be Commander Burnham of the Discovery. For now, she was Lieutenant Burnham of the Shenzhou.

And that was not at all a bad place to be.


End file.
